


Damned

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Devour (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1637453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the movie, Jake runs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damned

**Author's Note:**

> Written for brynwulf

 

 

Jake didn't stay in lockup long. It might have had something to do with the way that the deputies, men he'd known all his life, got distracted on the way to the station and used his face as a punching bag. They were, however, nice enough to let him get a backpack before they drove him to the state line and told him never to come back again.

He dreamed that he took the shotgun off the back of the squad car and blasted their heads apart until bits of skull and hair decorated the sidewalk. 

It was hard at first. No one wanted to give him a lift when his face was more black than tan. Eventually a farmer stopped and let him jump up in the pickup bed with his dog. The dog stayed on one side and watched him closely for the entire fifty miles. Its eyes flared yellow once, and Jake turned away, looking the passing pastures instead.

The sun set, giant and red when the farmer let him out at a crossroads. Standing in the middle, Jake's shadow stretched in front of him, and he could still feel the pull of the pathway. A cow moved to his left, but when he turned to look, it was a goat with horns that twisted away from its head toward the sky. 

_"Jake."_

It was Connie's voice whispering along his spine. Jake closed his eyes tight, ignoring the pain when he opened a scab and blood ran down the side of his face. He should probably get used to blood. His and others.

_"Jake."_

Dakota's voice pierced deeper. He still remembered the weight of her on his lap, one of his last moments of peace even if she was already drowning. He couldn't help either of them, the only friends he'd ever had, and they died because of him. 

Now their weight pressed heavy on his soul. If he even had one.

_"Jake."_

His mother's voice was low and pleading just like he remembered Marisol from the cabin. For a moment, he ached to be back there. A ribbon of wind blew from the south, warm despite the chill and twined around him. It caressed his face like a lover's hand, and Jake opened his eyes.

"I'm already damned," he said, speaking to the thing behind him without turning his head. His voice trembled, and he had to clear his throat before he could continue, "but I won't be your plaything too. Leave me the hell alone."

The night held its breath. Above him, the clouds broke and the moon shone down, a puddle of light formed at his feet, silvery and pure. He wondered if he could bare the feeling of it on his skin. Jake stepped forward and the wind gusted once again, the voices died away, and finally, he was alone inside his own mind.

The ground was hard, and the night cold, but it was the best night's sleep that he'd ever had. 

 


End file.
